


Passing Ships in the Night

by celeste9



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Awkward Conversations, Banter, Casual Sex, First Time, Flirting, Light Bondage, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 19:30:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7520320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Poe offers to buy a drink for the guy at the bar with the great ass, he doesn't expect the guy to turn out to be Han Solo. Or, how Poe Dameron manages to attach strings to no strings attached.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Passing Ships in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> This was for a smutty prompt at the Wish Fulfillment ficathon, but since apparently I am utterly incapable of just writing smut, here's almost 4k of banter, flirting, and angst with some smut in the middle. IDK, guys, IDK. Reference to Han/Leia and Poe's gigantic hero crush on Leia as well.

Poe’s first impression of the spacer at the bar was, to be perfectly honest, _nice ass._ The guy was leaning on the counter, thick gray hair, long legs, hips set off nicely by his belt and well-fitted pants. 

It wasn’t that Poe was _looking_ for anything, really. He knew he was too wiped to last the flight back to the _Echo of Hope_ without a good chance of nose-diving his X-wing into the side of a moon, so he’d sent a message to General Organa to let her know he’d be delayed. The cantina was simply appropriately placed and Poe hadn’t had a decent drink in far too long.

The spacer was just a bonus, really. Poe liked talking. Maybe the spacer did, too. Poe was generally of the opinion that it never hurt to try.

“Can I buy you another?” Poe asked as he leaned up next to the spacer, glad that his pockets were filled with his own credits and not the Resistance’s.

“I’m liable to say no if that’s the best line you’ve got,” the guy said, turning. “Except I never turn down free booze.”

Poe had never been so inclined to do a double-take in his life. Granted, it had been a while since his face had graced the holonews but Poe had spent a hell of a lot of his childhood watching footage of the heroes of the Rebellion. This guy was a few decades older and a lot grayer but Poe was willing to bet everything in his pockets that the spacer standing next to him was Han Solo.

_Han Solo._

Kriffing hell. Of all the cantinas in all the galaxy…

Poe had just been a kid the only time he’d seen Han Solo in person. It wasn’t a memory he enjoyed thinking about, considering Han had been on Yavin 4 to pay his respects to Shara Bey upon her death.

So, yeah. Poe didn’t like to think about it. 

“Are you rescinding that offer or what?”

Poe blinked, realizing he had been staring. “Sorry,” he said, getting the bartender’s attention. “Two of whatever he’s been having.”

“Make mine a double,” Han added.

“Been that kind of day, huh?”

“Been that kind of life.”

“Yeah, I hear you.” Poe paid for the drinks when the bartender slid them over. He sipped. Whiskey, probably Corellian. 

“Yeah? And what’s a pretty boy like you got to worry about?”

Poe spun the glass between his fingers. “Lost a friend a few weeks ago. Guy in my command. Watched his ship explode, right there in front of me.”

Han’s hand descended like a warm weight on Poe’s back, comforting, then gone. “I’m sorry, kid.”

“Kid? Really? I think I passed that threshold at least a decade ago.”

“When you’ve been around as long as I have, half the galaxy starts looking like a playground. You got a preference then? To what I should call you?”

“My friends generally just call me Poe, but you can call me Commander, if you want.”

“Oh, so that’s how it is. Fine, then, Mister Bigshot Commander. You a pilot? You look like a pilot.”

“Best in the galaxy,” Poe said with a grin.

Han snorted. “No, I’m gonna stick with kid. You remind me of someone I used to know.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Depends,” Han said, something fleeting in his eyes that Poe couldn’t catch. He drained his glass. “I’m Han.”

“Yeah, I kinda knew that,” Poe admitted. “Sorry.”

“If you’re looking--”

“No,” Poe interrupted. “I don’t want anything. I didn’t realize who you were ‘til after I offered the drink, if that makes a difference.”

Han regarded Poe for a long while, his gaze intent and searching. He must not have minded what he saw because he said, “You wanna get out of here?”

Poe laughed. “And you said my line was bad.”

“Can’t beat a classic.”

“Sure can’t,” Poe agreed, looking Han up and down. He dragged his teeth over his bottom lip.

Han was smirking a little and Poe couldn’t tell if he was into it or ready to laugh Poe out of the cantina. “My ship’s currently unoccupied. If that’s something that might interest you.”

So… into it, definitely.

Poe didn’t really do no strings attached. He happened to like strings. His head knew that this was a terrible idea and that if he followed Han Solo out of this cantina he was gonna have to face Leia Organa afterwards.

“Convenient,” Poe said. “Wouldn’t mind seeing the _Falcon_ in person.”

Wasn’t like he hadn’t made terrible choices before, right?

Han’s mouth twitched into a frown that he quickly suppressed. “No chance of that tonight.”

Though he desperately wanted to hear that story, Poe decided it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to press. “As long as it’s bigger than my X-wing, you’ll get no complaints from me.”

“Oh, it’s bigger, all right,” Han said, a sly expression on his face that made Poe laugh. “She’s docked at the space station in orbit; we’ll have to take a shuttle.”

“So when you say big…”

“Better not to create expectations. Leads to disappointment.”

Poe shrugged. “Okay, your way, then. I like surprises.”

“I don’t,” Han said, but that didn’t stop him from walking side by side with Poe, a little too close, their arms brushing now and again.

-

When Han had said big, he’d meant _big._ He was flying a bulk freighter, Baleen class if Poe wasn’t mistaken. It was kriffing massive.

“I’d heard you’d gone back to smuggling,” Poe said, taking in the sight as he moved through the corridors, “but this has gotta be more than a few steps up from your old operation.”

Han shrugged. “A guy likes to expand his business after a while.”

“Apparently so. It’s certainly… expanded.”

Okay, so, maybe Poe was trying too hard with the size jokes. He had no shame.

Rolling his eyes, Han said, “All right, flyboy, the bridge is this way.”

“You do know the way to a man’s heart,” Poe joked.

All kidding aside, though, the bridge was a sight to see. The freighter clearly wasn’t particularly new but she had character, and in any case, Poe hadn’t often had the opportunity to set foot on a ship of this class. He stroked his hand over the back of the captain’s chair. “What I wouldn’t give to take her for a spin.”

“Flying something like this isn’t exactly the same as piloting an X-wing, or whatever they had you in with the Navy.”

“I can fly anything,” Poe said, only half-listening. He was running his fingers lightly over the controls, imaging how it would feel to disengage from the dock, to have this much power under his command, to make the jump to hyperspeed. Frag, but what a rush it must be.

Poe glanced at Han, noticing the way Han’s eyes were tracking the movement of Poe’s hands. He smiled a bit to himself and hopped up onto the central console, carefully avoiding anything sensitive. It raised his vantage point slightly, made him closer to a height with Han.

“I’d offer myself as your copilot,” Poe said, “but I’m guessing that spot’s still taken.”

“I’m a one copilot kind of guy,” Han agreed.

“Shame. Still, maybe we can work some other arrangement out.” Poe shifted, spread his legs. 

Han shook his head, chuckling lightly and walking towards Poe. “You know your dad would murder me if he knew about this, right?”

Poe frowned. “My dad?”

“Yeah, Mister Bigshot Commander Poe Dameron.”

“I never said--”

Han quieted Poe with a look, settling into the circle of Poe’s legs. “Your parents were a good-looking couple and you look just like ‘em.” He traced his fingers over the line of Poe’s jaw. “You’ve got Kes’ jaw, Kes’ eyes.” He stuck his hand in Poe’s hair, tugged at it. “Definitely Shara’s hair, you lucky bastard.” Smiling a bit, he tapped the end of Poe’s nose. “But the nose is all you.”

“The nose is my grandpa’s, actually,” Poe said and, hooking his legs around Han’s hips, he leaned forward and kissed him.

Even as he did it Poe wasn’t certain he had read this right, wasn’t certain Han wouldn’t just shove him away, laugh this off, _in your dreams, kid_. But Han was kissing him back, one hand still sliding through Poe’s hair. Poe sighed a little into Han’s mouth, pulling at his shoulders, pressing closer, probably over-eager but fuck it, it had been a long dry spell, okay.

Han was pushing Poe’s jacket back off his shoulders, Poe’s arms getting caught in the sleeves, and it was all fast and messy and awkward and exactly what Poe needed. 

“Damn it, Poe,” Han was muttering, voice rough and low, yanking off his own jacket and giving Poe enough space to untangle himself.

The jackets were the only articles of clothing that they managed to get rid of, as Han’s hands glided up Poe’s thighs and Poe ran his heel up and down the back of Han’s leg. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to climb Han or climb inside him, their chests pressing together as he tried to get closer, closer, closer.

Han was sucking along the line of Poe’s jaw and he made this breathless, achy sound into Poe’s skin that went straight to Poe’s dick as he pulled Poe’s shirt out of his pants, his fingers rough and calloused against Poe’s belly, against his back. Just like that suddenly it wasn’t _enough,_ he needed more, more contact, more touch, more friction.

Poe hopped down from the console, taking the opportunity provided by Han’s failure to move to rub shamelessly against him. Being on the ground put everything at an entirely new angle, given the several inches of height Han had on Poe. He took advantage of this to tug aside Han’s collar, mouthing over Han’s collarbone, biting down lightly until Han hissed. 

Gripping Poe’s shoulders in what maybe was a half-hearted attempt to make him stop but really only was a form of encouragement, Han said, “I’ve got a cabin in here, you know. A cabin with an actual bed. It’s nice, as far as cabin bunks go. Fits two people, even.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Poe said and pushed Han back so that the backs of his legs bumped against the captain’s chair. Han stumbled and caught himself but Poe just pushed him down, climbing into his lap and looping his arms around Han’s neck.

Han just gazed up at him. “Okay. I can go with this.”

Smiling, because hell if Han’s expression wasn’t some kind of flattering, Poe leaned down to kiss Han again, open-mouthed, angling it deeper, tongues curling together. Han palmed his ass, squeezing, making Poe gasp. “Fuck,” he said.

“Getting there,” Han said, with this wicked roll of his hips.

Poe half-laughed, half-gasped into Han’s mouth. “Way too many clothes for this,” he said, drawing away so he could pull his own shirt off over his head before getting rid of Han’s.

This newly revealed expanse of bare skin provided Poe with the excellent opportunity to flick his tongue across Han’s nipple as Han’s hands clenched briefly in Poe’s hair. Then he was scraping blunt nails over Poe’s back, reaching for Poe’s fly, but that wasn’t quite where Poe wanted this to go yet.

He smacked Han’s hand, making a sharp noise in reprimand, and felt Han’s cock twitch.

Poe smiled, slow and amused. Well, wasn’t that interesting? He could work with this.

“We’re gonna do this my way,” he said, stroking his hand over Han’s cheek. “That all right with you?”

When Han made one more try for the zipper of Poe’s pants, Poe smacked his cheek. He could feel Han’s cock swell against him.

“Yeah,” Han said, his hands settling over Poe’s hips instead. “Yeah, your way’s great.”

Poe kissed him, like a reward, lips and tongue and warm breath, dragging his teeth over Han’s bottom lip. Then he leaned back.

“Maybe we can try something,” Poe said, unbuckling his belt and sliding it out from the loops in his pants.

Han’s eyes widened, catching on, and he didn’t protest.

Yeah, Poe was gonna like this.

He pushed Han’s arms behind his back, looping the belt a few times around his wrists until he could fasten it. Then he just looked, took in the sight before him. Han, restrained, chest bare, cock bulging in his pants, waiting for wherever Poe wanted to take this.

“Kriffing hell,” Poe breathed, his own dick feeling heavy and uncomfortable. He leaned forward again, shifting in Han’s lap, nuzzling his neck. “This is okay? This is what you want?”

Han’s pulse was throbbing against Poe’s tongue. “Coulda stopped you a long time ago if I didn’t want it.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” Poe said, licking Han’s exposed throat, kissing the underside of his jaw. He could feel Han straining against the belt, shoulder muscles pulling. Poe ground down against Han’s cock, Han’s moan seeming like a victory.

He found himself wondering if this was how it had been for Leia and Han, Leia in control, Han happy to follow. It was simultaneously the worst thought and the best thought Poe had ever had and he had no idea how he was gonna look Leia in the eyes without blushing the next time he saw her.

Poe slowly slid off of Han, kissing down his chest, his soft belly. He mouthed at Han’s hard length through the thick material of his pants before unzipping the fly, reaching past the band of Han’s underwear to wrap his hand around Han’s cock.

“Fuck, Poe,” Han said, his head hitting the back of his chair with an audible thud. He was writhing at Poe’s touch, still struggling against his bound hands.

“Patience,” Poe murmured, gazing up at Han through his eyelashes, watching him as he flicked his fingertip over the leaking head of his cock.

Han closed his eyes, taking a shuddering breath like he was trying to bring back some sense of calm.

Well, that wouldn’t do.

Poe pulled Han’s cock free of his underwear, licked his lips. Han was watching him again, gaze hungry. Yeah, that was better.

Poe was good at this. He knew he was good at it; he fucking loved it. He bent forward, swallowed the tip. He met Han’s eyes, liking what he saw.

Then it was on.

Using one hand to hold Han’s hips down, keep from thrusting too much, Poe licked the underside of his cock, twisted his other hand around the base. He took Han in, eyes raised to watch Han watching him, eyelids heavy, mouth parted. Poe took his time, bringing Han closer and closer to the edge before pulling back, moving his hand to let Han push up as much as he wanted. 

For an instant Poe let himself think about how it could be, sitting in Han’s lap and taking Han’s cock inside himself, letting Han fill him, riding him. Han would look kriffing gorgeous from that angle, Poe was sure. 

Not that he didn’t look gorgeous just like this, his cock in Poe’s mouth. Han’s thrusts became less and less careful, less and less graceful, until he was spilling into Poe’s mouth, a stream of nonsense and Poe’s name falling from his mouth.

Poe’s cheeks were flushed and his dick was a straining weight now, heavy between his legs. He pressed the heel of his palm against it, half-embarrassed as he realized how close he was to coming just from sucking Han off, just from the sight of him there, from watching his face.

He unzipped his pants, the act of it feeling like a desperate necessity. He levered himself back up into Han’s lap, hands down his pants, touching his own cock.

“Please,” Han was saying. “Poe, please.”

Poe was fairly certain the memory of Han begging would fuel his fantasies for a long, long time to come.

He definitely wasn’t strong enough to resist. Somehow removing the restraint seemed harder than putting it there had, his hands clumsy as he undid the belt.

As soon as Han’s hands were free he was touching Poe everywhere he could reach, sweeping up over skin sheened with sweat, tugging in Poe’s curls. He leaned forward, sucking at Poe’s neck hard enough to bruise, closing his own hand around Poe’s on his dick.

Their combined efforts brought Poe off in what seemed like an instant, Poe tossing his head back and crying out as he pulsed over their hands. He was going to have come all over his pants and he didn’t even care.

Fuck it, he didn’t care.

“That was quick, kid,” Han said, a smirk on his face.

“Whatever,” Poe said, resting his forehead on Han’s shoulder as he recovered, letting his breathing return to normal.

Han was laughing, the sensation of it reverberating against Poe’s body. “Hey, I’m just glad I can keep up with guys half my age still.”

“Yeah, I’d say you did fine,” Poe said, unable to resist pressing a kiss to Han’s bare skin. Then he kissed Han’s mouth, just because he could, slow and lazy.

“Didn’t know how much I needed that,” Han said when they moved apart, the gratitude in his eyes unmistakable.

Poe didn’t like thinking about it. He didn’t like thinking about Han Solo, war hero, separated from his wife, gone back to smuggling and grateful for a quick lay from a guy he’d met in a cantina.

But Poe only said, “I know what you mean,” because he did. Life didn’t turn out the way you expected, most of the time, and sometimes you had to take what you could get. There was comfort in a warm, friendly body, and there wasn’t any shame in that.

They got dressed, Poe cleaning himself up as well as he could. Luckily he would be able to get in the ‘fresher in his hotel room before he left the planet, maybe wash his pants in the sink. He would really rather not face anyone on the _Echo of Hope_ stinking of sweat and sex.

Especially not the general.

As if they were thinking the same thing, Han was standing there and saying, “When you see Leia, well… Maybe don’t tell her you saw me.”

Poe knew there was no way the surprise he felt wasn’t showing on his face. He was certain he hadn’t said anything about being with the Resistance to Han. “How’d you--”

“Kid, I knew your parents. I know the type of man they’d raise.”

Poe felt a warm rush of pleasure at Han’s words rising in him but he determined not to let that distract him. “My dad told a lot of stories about you. The Resistance could use a man like you.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” Han said, his mouth pursing like he had tasted something sour and unpleasant. “I’m not good at sticking around.”

“Druk. You stuck around the Rebellion long enough.”

“That was different. The whole freedom fighter thing, that’s just not me. I didn’t care about the cause. I stayed for…” Han trailed off, but he didn’t need to say the words for Poe to know what he meant.

“There’s still people worth sticking around for.”

“She doesn’t want me there.”

There was a frown pulling at Poe’s mouth and he didn’t try to hide it. “I don’t think you really believe that.”

“And you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Poe thought of rumors, rumors about Han and Leia and their son, rumors about Kylo Ren. He knew who Anakin Skywalker was and he knew who Darth Vader was.

Looking at Han’s face, Poe was suddenly very sure that those rumors were true.

Just like that it made sense. Why Han was here, and not with Leia. Sometimes when the worst happened all you could do was return to whatever had made you feel safe, whatever you had been best at. He was sorry that Han and Leia didn’t feel they could grieve together but he understood it.

He still hoped that maybe Han would make a different choice.

“I think you owe it to her to have a conversation. And I think you owe it to yourself.”

“Stubborn,” Han said, lips twitching. “Stubborn and so damn sure you’re right. You get that from Shara.”

“Don’t think you can distract me by talking about my mom.”

Han sighed. “You can’t just butt your nose in and fix everything. You think because we fucked once and because I liked your parents we’re best pals or something? I know who I am.”

“And I know you’re better than this,” Poe insisted. “You’re Han Solo! You helped overthrow the Empire!”

“This is why it’s better not to meet your heroes. They’re always a disappointment.”

Poe squared himself, looking Han in the eyes. “You were never my hero. Your wife was. Still is.”

Han was smiling, faint and sad and wistful. “Yeah, well. That makes two of us. I’m glad Leia has someone like you at her back.”

Though he couldn’t have explained exactly why, that was the moment Poe realized he was trying to fight a battle he had already lost. Han had made up his mind and nothing Poe said was gonna change that. 

Time to cut his losses.

Poe picked his jacket up off the floor. “If you ever wanna get your head out of your ass, my dad still lives on Yavin 4. He knows how to reach me.”

He felt this dimly burning anger inside him but it wasn’t really directed at Han. It was life, the galaxy, all the druk that happened that he couldn’t do anything about. The fact that life could beat down someone like Han Solo and make him feel like running was the only thing to do.

“Take care of yourself, Poe,” Han said, a futile but well-meaning gesture. “Your mom would be proud.”

“Thanks,” Poe said, accepting Han’s kindness for what it was. Two warm, friendly bodies, offering what they had.

Poe hadn’t been able to save Muran, and he couldn’t save Han if Han wouldn’t even admit he needed help.

You can’t save everyone. It was a lesson Poe had never really learned.

He didn’t know if Han had actually heard anything he had said. A person couldn’t hear what they didn’t want to. 

Poe knew better than to count on anything changing, but he could hope. In the meantime, well…

He had a general to report to.

**_End_ **


End file.
